


Grounded

by ExpectedBehavior



Series: Paul Stamets Makes Poor Life Choices [2]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Aftermath Scene, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Choose Your Pain, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Healing, Hugh Culber is a saint, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Procedures, Missing Scene, Mostly Canon Compliant, No Sex, Paul Stamets is too adorable for this world, Star Trek: Discovery 1x05, Whump, too cute for words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 15:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12484584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExpectedBehavior/pseuds/ExpectedBehavior
Summary: Doctor Hugh Culber patches up the mad genius he loves.A one-shot of what had to have occurred after Commander Saru found Lieutenant Stamets in the spore chamber (episode 1x05 of Star Trek: Discovery). All good whump needs good aftercare.





	Grounded

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn't line up exactly with canon, since Hugh and Paul had some of this conversation in their quarters that night, but I don't think that Stamets just jumped right up after being skewered like a kebab. This ficlet is me trying to inject some much-needed aftercare into the mix. 
> 
> I've decided to continue these one-shots (around Stamets i  
> and his spore drive integration) as a series! Thank you to everyone who had commented and left kudos for giving me the confidence to keep writing. <3

_Four identical and excruciating jolts of pain ripped through his sides as the probes sunk into his flesh. The machinery locked into final position, wrenching his body upright, and he screamed for what felt like days._

_And then he saw the network stretched out before him, like an antique highway map in one of Earth's old transportation museums. It glowed. It called to him. Stamets heard himself calling back. He saw himself glowing with it. His screams stopped, or he stopped being on the same plane of existence as his convulsing corporeal form -- it didn't matter which. He saw where he needed to be, where he wanted to be, and he reached out towards that point of light, pulling himself and the ship he was linked with towards it..._

Lieutenant Paul Stamets sat up with a jolt. It was a bad decision, and he immediately regretted it.

"Christ, that hurts," he hissed, grabbing his bare torso. He heard footsteps to his left, before a pair of familiar hands pushed his shoulders back down against the medchair.

"That was extremely stupid of you," the voice belonging to the hands nearly growled. Doctor Hugh Culber grabbed a hypospray off the tray nearest the medchair and loaded a local anesthetic.

"Sitting up? Yeah, I don't recommend it. Where did my shirt go, by the way?"

Stamets' quip earned him a snort from Culber. "That's not what I'm referring to and you know it."

"I saved the Tardigrade, and the captain, and the ship, so I think the words you're looking for are 'Thank you, Paul'..." Stamets said dryly. Culber pressed the hypospray against Stamets' ribs with just slightly more force than was necessary, eliciting a high-pitched yelp and a murderous look from his patient.

"Rule #1 of being injured: Don't piss off your doctor. We know all the ways the human body is put together -- and how best to make your treatment as uncomfortable as possible without permanently harming you or jeopardizing your recovery," Culber lectured, looking his husband straight in the face. "In fact, I'm currently resisting the urge to use a dermal regenerator to temporarily seal your witty little mouth closed, but only because it would probably just encourage you to learn the dirtiest sign language terminology you could."

Stamets glared back, then closed his eyes and sighed as the hypospray activated and numbness spread through his midsection.

"...How could you do that to me, Paul?"

Stamets' eyes opened a crack. The doctor had his back to him, ostensibly prepping the protoplaser tool he'd need to close Stamets' wounds, but his shoulders were hunched slightly and his voice was soft.

"Do what, exactly? My job?"

"Don't pull your 'socially awkward clueless scientist' routine with me. Not today. You know what I'm talking about. How could you risk yourself, and how could you not tell me what you were planning to do?" Culber whipped around to face his partner, now his patient. "How could you leave me in the dark? How could you not trust me?"

A sigh, and Stamets sunk further into the medchair, his eyes closing again.

"Hugh, I was about to conduct an illegal eugenics experiment using myself as the guinea pig. If it worked, we'd all be safe, including your precious Tardigrade, but I'd also knew it would likely result in my court martial. I didn't want you complicit in that. I didn't want to bring you down with me." Stamets kept his eyes shuttered, unwilling to witness the response his words would almost certainly bring.

"And if it didn't work? I could have helped!" exclaimed an exasperated Culber, as if on cue, slamming the protoplaser onto the tray.

"If it didn't work, the Klingons would have taken care of any clean-up, and it wouldn't have mattered if you were here in sickbay or in the goddamn chamber making out with me at that point," Stamets muttered.

Stamets' eyes jerked open as the doctor grabbed his chin and not-so-gently directed his gaze to the PADD he was holding. It showed multiple scans of a human torso, with four jagged red pathways interrupting the harmonious blue shades of the scan's normal topography.

"Do you see these?" Culber let go of Stamets and, with a reverse-pinching gesture, transferred the PADD's images into the larger display emitters surrounding the medchair. The lieutenant followed his doctor's slightly-shaking fingers as they traced the red rivulets piercing the image. "This is what your insides currently look like. This is what Straal's machinery did to you."

"It Swiss-cheesed me. Oh! Does this mean I can tell even more cheesy jokes than before?"

"Goddamnit, Paul, this is serious! Those probes barely missed your vital organs. Plus who knows what the trauma and blood loss combined with hypertension from the spore dosage could have done to you."

"I know it's serious, _Doctor_ , but obviously I'm still alive so I don't know what you're so upset about."

Culber sank wearily onto a work stool. "You could have died, Paul." He buried his face in his hands. "You could have died, and I wasn't there. I should have been there. I should have known." His voice caught on the last word.

A few beats of silence, then the medchair squeaked as Stamets carefully shifted positions. He reached out towards the doctor and brushed his fingers along Culber's clenched knuckles.

"Hugh... I'm sorry."

Culber looked up at his husband to see a stricken expression on the scientist's face and one arm wrapped around his still-sore ribs.

"I should have told you what I was planning. I thought I was protecting you. I was... wrong. But it had to be done. I couldn't watch the Tardigrade go through it any longer, and... I couldn't bear to think about what you'd do if I complied with Lorca's order."

Sighing, Culber squeezed Stamets' hand, then reached up and ran his fingers through his partner's blond hair before standing up. "Just... promise me you won't take such risks with your life any more, ok? You're too important to me."

Stamets repositioned himself on the medchair again with a small groan. "Deal. I'll let you monitor next time, make sure everything is kosher. Maybe get a little local anesthesia beforehand." He winced as the doctor activated the protoplaser and his muscles began knitting themselves together beneath his skin, causing a disconcerting "pull."

"Yeah, you're not doing it again," Culber replied sharply.

"Do you see another human that's been injected with Tardigrade DNA on the ship? Or another Tardigrade around to somehow domesticate?"

"I will tie you to our bed if I have to. Look at my face, Paul, and see if I'm joking."

"I'm the only one who can keep the ship jumping now. Tell me there's another way," the lieutenant said, matter-of-factly. Culber sighed deeply at this but kept silent.

"Then it's settled. I'll talk to my mushrooms, you'll supervise and make sure I'm safe, the ship gets to keep using the S-drive -- a win win win situation for everyone." Stamets practically beamed as he mentioned his mushrooms, and the doctor couldn't help but laugh softly despite himself.

Culber shut off the protoplaser, running his hand gently down Stamets' now-healed right rib cage. His patient shivered at the touch, his eyes rolling back in his head slightly. Culber chuckled again.

"And what may I ask is so funny, dear Doctor?" Stamets murmured.

"Nothing, my silly astromycologist. Let's get your left side done, then it's bed rest for you. Doctor's orders."

"I think I might need observation while on bed rest, Doctor Culber. Can you recommend a physician who would be a good... fit?" Stamets flashed a cheeky grin.

"I might know someone who could help, Lieutenant Stamets. He is especially good with tight... timelines. Very flexible." Culber grinned back.

"Excellent. Let's get this tiresome 'healing' part over with then. I am very interested to meet this doctor you're recommending. He sounds perfect." Stamets smiled at his partner, then leaned back in the medchair and closed his eyes. Culber leaned over and deposited a kiss on Stamets' forehead, then moved into position to finish the tissue regeneration.

 


End file.
